Guess What Guys.

It's coming.

Always always torn.

I think I am fated for the rest of my days to be leading a double life. Ever since my parents' divorce at the age of nine, I've been split between two homes, two families, two ways of life. In high school, it became two groups of friends who represented two different aspects of my personality. In college, it became my life when I was away and my life at home.

For a long time, I've had this dream, this yearning to find myself a little apartment here in Huntsville, to decorate it, to fill it with my books and music and art, and with the people I love, make it my home. I think a big part of that longing had to do with always feeling so torn between one life and another, and wanting to make one perfect place, a base to lay my heart down and let it take root. But for a long time now, I've been suspecting college has killed that dream for me.

I lived in the city for over three years. I made friends, developed routines, found favourite places, built memories. I made myself another life. My whole time there, part of me was longing to return to this life here. But now that I'm back, and I knew this would happen, a new part of me I grew while I was away longs for the life I led there. A life of back and forth is always how I've dealt with this sort of situation in the past. And technically speaking, it seems like a totally feasible solution. But having lived this way for as long as I have, I've come familiar with the flaws. The main one being this. Part of what makes a life a home is a commitment to it, I think. And when you spend half your time somewhere else, life there goes on without you. You miss things. Children grow, trees fall, people live and love and change. And each time you come back, as much as you feel you are coming home, you feel like an outsider as well, because of all you missed.

I suppose this is the life I'm fated to. Many people live this way, I'm hardly unique. And I suppose, with time, I'll get used to it. Here's hoping.

First Day of School

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I was aware of was that it felt like fall. I was cozy under the blankets; the sky was grey and the light a little gloomy, and the air coming in the open window was cool and fresh and almost crisp. And there was something about it that smelled of Autumn. It wasn't that earthy, dead leaf rot smell you get when fall is in full swing, that's not here yet. What it was is too subtle to pick out exactly, but it made me feel the way I always felt on the first day of school. Like fresh paper and new beginnings and a mind still optimistic to the possibilities the year might offer.

And it was awfully nice too; lately, as summer draws to a close, I've been feeling my busy time for art ending. It's not that winter makes it harder for me to design and create. If anything, it's easier....I'm called into work less, I have fewer hours, I'm less tempted by the sunshine and flowers that live on the other side of the window glass. Friends don't want to go out swimming or eating ice cream or even dancing nearly so much, so I'm not tempted to join them. Instead, everyone hibernates a bit more, doing their own thing in the coziness of the house, and it's an atmosphere far more conducive to me actually getting work done.

I guess the change I was anticipating was more about the drive I've felt because of summer. So many people see summer as lazy days and good times, but here it's the busiest time of year. Work is busy, the streets are crowded, there are shows and events and plans going on nearly all the time. The hectic pace makes working seem that much more urgent, and as things slow down with fall approaching, I guess I was worried I might slow down too. But the air this morning told me different. As it does every year, that fresh start autumn smell has instead given me new motivation to get moving. The air is fresh, the sun is out, the day is early and stretched out before me. Time to go out and take some pictures.
~M

No Time Like the Present

My pal Fiona has been bugging me to start a blog. I'd been thinking about it for awhile anyway, and as my internet presence grows, it seems like the obvious next step.

So here it is. A blog for Miranda Thomas. And Fiona. And everyone else too.